


of soulmates and subterfuge

by ladydetective



Category: Book of the Ancestor Series - Mark Lawrence
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pre-Canon, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27263968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydetective/pseuds/ladydetective
Summary: In Abeth, everyone is born with the name of their soulmate imprinted somewhere on their body. Sister Apple has the name Mai Tanner on her wrist. She'd never met the woman, nor did she ever expect to. Imagine her surprise when she substitutes a Shade Class and sees the name on her roll-call.A story about soulmates, undercover missions and love. Always love.
Relationships: Sister Apple/Sister Kettle (Book of the Ancestor)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	of soulmates and subterfuge

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmate AUs and Fake-Dating are two of my favourite fic tropes, so this combination of the two is maybe the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written. I'm pretty proud of this one, so I hope you enjoy!

Sister Apple of Sweet Mercy Convent was born with the name ‘Mai Tanner’ on her wrist. It had been of little use to her up until this point - in fact, it had an actively negative impact on her life. It was not unusual for a soulmark to bear the name of a person of the same gender - your soulmate was your soulmate, and most did not care what form they came in. Her father was not one of those people, however. He had been a hard man, with hard beliefs. Apple’s soulmark had been a bone of contention between them since the very beginning. 

Her mother and her father had been soulmates, and it had not worked out well for them. He’d beat her black and blue despite having her name on his ankle, and because she also had his name branded on her body, she would always go back to him. He’d tried to do the same to Apple, but her marjal abilities had come in at a young age and he never made the same mistake twice. Once she joined Sweet Mercy as a novice, she’d sent a gift home - an apple, treated with the most deadly of poisons. One bite was all it had taken, and both she and her mother were free. She’d always had a talent for poisons, even from a young age. Taking Apple as her holy name seemed like an appropriate way to mark the occasion. 

The Church of the Ancestor preached that soulmates were a gift from the Ancestor himself, and that finding your soulmate was a privilege that marked you as favoured in His eyes. Despite her church’s teachings, Apple didn’t much believe in the concept. She’d given little thought to Mai Tanner, wherever she may be - she’d never met her, and now, as a Sister of Discretion, it was unlikely she ever would. It didn’t bother her much - her work as a Grey Sister kept her more than occupied. The Church had a great many enemies, and it was her job to make sure they were dealt with. 

And now her work was expanding. Sister Ivy, Sweet Mercy’s current Mistress Shade, was sickening. She was elderly, almost of an age with Sister Pan, and was thus beginning to delegate some of her responsibilities to her most favoured Grey Sisters. Today, Apple was to teach her first class. The opportunity was an honor - it had only been a few short years since she had first taken the Grey cloak, but she had quickly proven her worth and risen up the ranks. Still, though - she felt no small amount of nerves. She was barely older than some of the Holy Class girls she would be teaching. What if they did not respect her?

_ Then you’ll make them respect you _ , she thought, as she scanned the desk a final time, making sure she had all the ingredients she needed for the lesson.  _ You deserve to be here. Ivy chose you, and she believes in you.  _

The door opened, and students streamed in. There were not many - only those who were either exceptionally talented or had a serious intention to become a Grey Sister - or both - continued to Holy level Shade lessons. They moved differently to other novices - they were lighter and more swift, likely already preparing themselves for possible future missions. Their dedication was admirable, but Apple couldn’t help but notice that their form was not yet perfect. They were not  _ quite _ as quiet when they moved as they should be, nor were they as subtle. They still had much to learn - which was why she was here. The thought filled her with a sort of nervous anticipation. 

Once they were all seated, determinedly blank looks on their faces - though some gave the game away by looking ever-so-slightly eager - Apple opened her mouth to introduce herself, but was distracted by the glimmer of something... _ off _ ... out of the corner of her eye. She moved to inspect it, and found a tripwire. No doubt it was connected to some kind of mechanism that would douse her in something undesirable. It was well-concealed - had she not been so  _ exhaustively _ trained in recognising such methods of hindrance, she likely would have missed it. She disarmed it easily, and cast a quick look around the classroom for other such obstacles. There were several - another two more tripwires, and a couple of conspicuous objects that were likely coated in some kind of poison.

“A commendable effort,” she said, her voice unaffected, “But I’m afraid you’ll have to be more subtle than that if you wish to fool a Sister of Discretion. Several of you betrayed your plans before you’d even taken your seats - you kept looking at the location of your traps, and appeared  _ far _ too eager for this lesson.” She allowed a smile to grace her features - the same smile that made many a mark cry out in fear. “Let’s see if you’re as adept at removing traps as you are at placing them, shall we?” She gestured to the offending novices, and they reluctantly set about the process of dismantling them. 

One, as it turned out, was  _ not _ as good at disarming them. A hiss of pain filled the room as the wire snapped in the novices’ hand and she was covered in a foul-smelling substance. Apple identified it instantly - it was not a lethal poison, but it could be painful and was most assuredly annoying. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. “Go and see Sister Rose in the Sanitorium. And I hope this serves as a reminder to you all - don’t set traps that you don’t also know how to disarm.”

She could see she’d impressed some of them. They were certainly looking at her as if she was something more than an amusing substitute, at any rate. “With that out of the way,” she said, trying to imbue her voice with the authority their newfound respect in her deserved, “My name is Sister Apple. I’ll be filling in for Mistress Shade whilst she is… indisposed. I’ll begin with taking attendance.”

She began to rattle off names from the rota that Sister Ivy had provided. The novices appeared to respond to the correct names - she’d been slightly worried that they’d try to irritate her further by responding to the wrong ones, but it seemed they were leaving her alone for now. It wasn’t until she’d almost reached the end of the list that she encountered her second problem. 

_ Mai Tanner _ . There it was, written plainly in front of her. Could it be another form of trick? She doubted it - she’d gotten this rota directly from Sister Ivy, and the older nun had too much on her mind to bother with so juvenile an antic. Besides, she always kept the mark on her wrist well hidden. 

But that meant her soulmate really was  _ here _ \- that her soulmate was a  _ student _ . 

Beneath her astonishment, Apple was dimly aware that she’d been silent for too long - the pause was becoming distinctly awkward. She cleared her throat, trying to make her voice appear normal. “Mai Tanner,” she said, only half succeeding.

“Here,” replied a voice near the front of the class. Apple looked at her, and for a moment the two locked eyes. She was pretty - eighteen or nineteen, with dark hair and warm eyes.  _ Ancestor _ , Apple could get lost in those eyes. For her own part, Mai appeared equally reluctant to look away. 

The spell was eventually broken by the novice sitting beside Mai. Narrowing her eyes, the other woman possessively laid a hand over Mai’s and leaned over to whisper something in her ear. It had the intended effect - she looked away from Apple and smiled at her companion. It was a beautiful smile. 

_ They look at one another like lovers _ , Apple realised with a jolt. Likely, they were. It was not unusual for two novices to share a bed - she herself had taken up with one of her dormmates, once upon a time. The relationship had quickly fizzled out once they had both taken Holy Orders. These two, though - they looked like they had something special. Soulmarks were not always reciprocal - was it possible that while she bore Mai’s name on her wrist, Mai had the name of this other novice? 

She  _ must not think about this now _ . If any of the students had failed to notice her first pause, they certainly did not miss this one. She needed to get through this lesson - falling to pieces would have to wait. She forced a smile, trying to imitate the one she’d given after that novice had fallen prey to her own trap. “Today,” she said, her voice somewhat shaky but growing in confidence as she spoke, “We’ll be furthering your shadow-walking abilities, and practicing some advanced techniques……”

* * *

Once the class had finished, Apple left the Shade Caverns quickly. It hadn’t been  _ too  _ much of a disaster, all things considered. The actual lesson had even gone fairly well - they were a talented group, and she felt as if she’d helped them improve even in such a short span of time. Had her nerves not been so frayed from the earlier revelation, she thought she would have even enjoyed herself. 

She hadn’t been able to help noticing that Mai was deeply gifted in Shadow-walking - a natural, in fact. She’d been one of only a handful of novices that hadn’t required any further assistance. She stuck mostly to the other novice whom Apple could only assume was her lover - Safira, as she’d later learned. She hadn’t needed any help either, and Apple felt a petty flare of jealousy at the thought.

_ Ancestor _ , she was  _ jealous _ of a  _ novice _ . Moreover, her supposed soulmate was  _ also _ a novice. She’d long since given up on the idea of meeting her soulmate, and had learned whilst a novice herself that relationships with those who were not her soulmate could be perfectly satisfying. Never in her wildest dreams did she expect to meet Mai here, much less did she think she would be her  _ student. _ It was entirely inappropriate. Even if this was never acted on - which she wouldn’t, not with a student - she’d be dismissed from her position immediately and lose all chance of becoming Mistress Shade after Sister Ivy retired. 

Not to mention the fact that Mai was clearly involved with Safira. She wouldn’t interfere with that. She’d thought, for a moment when their eyes had first met, that the other woman had felt something too. Clearly, she’d been wrong. As she always had done, she would keep this information about her soulmark to herself. Mai would never need to know. 

* * *

Sister Kettle of Sweet Mercy Convent traced a finger over her new Grey Cloak, getting used to the weight of it over her shoulders. It was not the only thing she was getting used to - only a few short days ago, she had taken her Holy Orders and pledged herself to the Sisters of Discretion. It was still unusual to hear former teachers treat her as one of their own instead of one of their charges, call her Sister Kettle instead of Mai Tanner. Still, she  _ was  _ one of them now. She’d wanted to be a Grey Sister since she first joined the Convent, and it had finally happened. 

She shifted her weight from one leg to another and then winced, forgetting. Pain shot through her - from the injured leg, but even more so from memory of the woman that had put it there. Safira. Kettle still found it hard to fathom just how quickly their relationship had turned. They’d first met in Red Class and become fast friends. Both of them were smart and naturally competitive, always racing one another to the top of whatever class they took. Their relationship turned romantic some time towards the end of Grey Class. Kettle had thought herself in love - and, for a time, she supposed she was. One night, uncharacteristically shyly, Safira had peeled back the covering she used to conceal her soulmark and revealed the name beneath - Kettle’s own. She’d then looked to her as if she expected her to do the same thing - but she hadn’t been able to, because Kettle didn’t have Safira’s name. The name on her wrist belonged to a woman she’d never even met. Safira had never said so, but Kettle knew she’d been crushed by this. 

Their relationship changed, after that. Not quickly, and not all at once - but there had been a definite shift. They’d told one another that it didn’t matter, that they loved each other anyway - but Safira became jealous. She didn’t like it when Kettle talked too much to other women, fearing that any one of them may be her secret soulmate. Safira’s jealousy did not limit itself to romantic affairs either - their once friendly academic competition took on a pointed edge. When Kettle set the current Convent record on Blade Path, she’d been livid - though she’d tried to conceal it. 

It had all come to a head when Sister Apple started teaching them Shade lessons. Kettle didn’t have the words to describe how she felt when she first saw the other woman - even hidden as she was beneath her habit, she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. But there was more to it than that - it felt as if there was some sort of invisible thread between them, pulling them together. Apple  _ appeared _ to have felt it too, and Safira had noticed. Her jealousy had reached unbearable levels, after that. 

To make matters worse, as Kettle was reaching the end of her years of study and had expressed a desire to become a Grey Sister, Sister Apple had been appointed as her personal mentor. There hadn’t even been anything to be jealous  _ of _ \- as much attention as Apple appeared to have paid her in their first lesson, she’d been cold and distant in every lesson they had - public or private - since. It had made Kettle question whether or not she’d imagined that initial spark between them. 

She was a damned good teacher, though - Kettle had felt as if she had little more to learn about the Grey Arts from Sister Ivy, but Apple had proved her wrong. She’d helped her enhance her abilities, taught her how to do things she hadn’t even realised were possible. 

Safira, however, was unable to believe that she’d return from these lessons with Apple in a good mood because she’d been learning things. She’d been making snide comments to Kettle all day and Kettle, irritated, had suggested they go to the Blade yard and spar out their frustrations. She’d been intending to let Safira win to ease her bruised ego, but the other woman had been so insufferable all day that she’d ended up trying her hardest, and had narrowly come out on top. She’d turned around to put her equipment back in the equipment shed when she’d heard the unmistakable sound of metal meeting flesh and felt an explosion of pain in her thigh. Safira had stabbed her while her back was turned. The sting of betrayal had hurt more than the wound, and the wound had been pretty damn painful. 

Still, it was in the past. Safira had been expelled from the Convent, and Kettle would likely never see her again. She had a future waiting for her - a future she’d been working towards for more than ten years. Sister Ivy had asked to see her - hopefully, she would have her first assignment ready for her. Excitement thrummed through her body at the prospect. 

She made her way down to the Shade Caverns - Ivy took all reports from the small bedchamber within now. The older woman’s illness had only gotten worse since she delegated some of her duties, and there were mutterings that it wouldn’t be long now. She stepped through the door and registered with a note of surprise that it was not only Sister Ivy in the room, but Sister Apple as well. Kettle hadn’t seen much of the other nun since she’d taken the Grey cloak and thus no longer had any need for private lessons - her absence was conspicuous, actually, as if she had been deliberately avoiding her. She seemed equally surprised to see Kettle. 

Ivy coughed, bringing their attention back to her. She truly didn’t look well - Kettle felt a pang of sadness for the woman who had been at the Convent for as long as she could remember, who first fostered her passion for Shade and the Grey Arts.

“I asked you both to come here today because I have a mission for you, one that can only be accomplished together.” This piqued her interest - she was hardly an expert, but it was most common for Sisters of Discretion to carry out assignments alone. 

“You may already be aware, but it recently came to the Emperor’s attention that the Namsis fortune was being maintained off the backs of slaves. It caused quite the scandal - Lord Namsis has been asked to free them, or at least pay them a fair wage, but he has so far declined. He is powerful enough that the Emperor cannot move on him openly, so he has asked for our assistance. As slavery is condemned by the Ancestor, Abbess Glass has decided to grant his request. She and I have been discussing how best to accomplish it, and we believe we have reached a solution.”

She paused to take a drink. Kettle used the opportunity to steal a glance at Apple - the other woman’s eyes were narrowed and her brow furrowed. Clearly, this would not be a usual mission. 

(She couldn’t help but notice how attractive the expression was on her - but then again, that was true for almost all of them.)

“Lord Namsis,” Ivy resumed, “is throwing a party - a grand ball. It’s a demonstration of his power - he’s saying he can flout as many of the Empire’s laws as he likes, because he believes himself untouchable. Despite this, he is no fool - he would expect the Emperor to send an assassin, and will doubtless employ countermeasures against them. Therefore, you will hide in plain sight - attend the Ball together, masquerade as a couple. Convince those attending that you are like any other guests, and then wait for a moment to strike when Namsis’s guard is down.”

Apple exhaled audibly. “This will be… quite the challenge. Striking down a Sis Lord within his own home, at the height of his power? Are you sure it can be done?”

“I won’t lie to the two of you. It will not be easy - there is every chance you both may die. It certainly wouldn’t be possible alone - that is why the ruse  _ must _ succeed. You must be convincing enough that Namsis won’t suspect you until it is too late.” She turned to Apple, “You are the best Grey Sister we have. I don’t think the Convent has ever housed someone with a knowledge of poison as great as yours. If you survive this, you will be my clear choice to replace me as Mistress Shade when I am… no longer here.” Ivy’s voice wavered for a moment before she faced Kettle once more. “This is your first mission, and Ancestor knows there aren’t many that would be more difficult. But you have the makings of an excellent Sister of Discretion, and I believe you’ll do the order proud.”

“I won’t let you down, Mistress Shade,” said Kettle, standing tall and proud.

“Nor will I,” said Apple, before turning to Kettle. “Well, Sister…. It appears we are to be married.”

* * *

They set out for the Namsis estate without delay. It was many miles away, and they would need to move quickly if they were going to make it in time for the party. Kettle was filled with both nerves and excitement in almost equal measure - this was her first proper assignment, and she’d expected something far more mundane. The assassination of a Sis lord in his own estate? If they pulled it off, they’d be legends.

If they pulled it off, she thought.Thing is, she wasn’t entirely sure how they were going to accomplish it. Most Grey Sister missions were solitary endeavours, and thus their training reflected that. She could see Ivy’s reasoning. Namsis likely would be on the alert for lone assassins, so an open infiltration would be best - but she’d spent the last ten years training to go unnoticed. It contradicted her basic instincts. She’d need to talk to Apple about how best to approach this when she next got an opportunity. 

Apple. The idea of doing this with her played no small role in Kettle’s nervousness. She was so…  _ competent _ , and clearly a favourite of Ivy’s. Kettle had no real way of knowing how she would react in a real scenario - she could freeze, she could fail, she could get them both killed. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of the other woman. And then there was the small matter of Apple’s attractiveness - Kettle had denied it again and again when she’d still been with Safira, but there was no point in doing so now. She was attracted to her, incredibly so - she was perhaps the most beautiful woman Kettle has ever seen - but more than that, there was still some kind of... connection... between them. She’d felt it for the first time in that initial Shade class more than a year ago now, and it hadn’t gone away - no matter how distant Apple was with her. The idea of doing the things she’d need to do with her in order for this ruse to succeed - touching her, dancing with her, perhaps even kissing her - sent a thrill of excitement through her body. 

The opportunity to speak privately came that night. They’d been riding hard all day, which wasn’t exactly conducive to serious conversation. They made camp, and once the fire was roaring, Kettle broached the topic. “So,” she said, her voice awkward. “How do you think we should go about...it?”

Apple tilted her head in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You know, pretending to be a couple. We need to be convincing if we’re going to infiltrate the party properly. What should we do? Should we...practice, before the big event?”

“Oh.  _ Oh _ ,” said Apple, face flushing. Kettle noticed this detail with nothing short of delight. “We’ll need to be seen together - Sis are rarely discreet about their lovers. Hand-holding, little gestures of affection. That sort of thing. There’ll be dancing, too. How up to date are you with the latest courtly dances?”

Kettle gulped. She grew up in Verity as a cobbler’s daughter - far removed from the Sis and their noble customs. There  _ had _ been some Sis novices in her dormitory and they’d shown her a little, but she doubted those were still in fashion. “Um… not very. I’m not Sis - but I can learn,” she added, hastily. 

Apple nodded. “I’m not exactly an expert myself, but I can help you. I’ll lead, and I’ll teach you some basic steps. All you’ll have to do is follow.”

“Thank you,” Kettle replied. The other woman smiled tentatively in response. Despite the difficulty of the mission ahead, she seemed warmer out here. More approachable. Perhaps it was the fact that Kettle was a colleague now and no longer a student - or perhaps she thought that while they were on this mission together, they should learn to be more friendly with one another if they had a hope of success. 

She extended a hand out to Apple. “So, then…. Dancing?”

* * *

Days later, they arrived at the sprawling Namsis estate. Having grown up in Verity, Kettle was used to walking past the enormous townhouses owned by Sis families, but even they paled in comparison to this. The main house more closely resembled a castle - she imagined that the entirety of Sweet Mercy would be able to fit inside it five times over. Then there were the grounds - they were well maintained, and seemed to go on as far as the eye could see. No wonder Sis novices came to the Convent with over-inflated views of themselves - they were used to being treated like royalty.

“We should find somewhere to get changed,” Apple murmured. “It’ll be starting soon, and we need to freshen up.”

“There was an inn in the village. It should have everything we need - unless you think it’ll be too dangerous?”

“It should be fine. There may well be spies installed there, but to them we’d just appear as ordinary guests. I imagine several of the other customers are also going to the Ball - we can blend in with them. Just remember that the walls likely have ears.”

They made their way to the inn. Bathing felt wonderful after several long days on the road - she’d grown used to regular baths in the Convent, even if it was a luxury she’d not always been able to afford prior to that. As she washed away the accumulated sweat and dirt, she pondered the journey so far - or, more accurately, she thought about her travelling companion. 

Apple remained a mystery to her, but one she delighted in unravelling. Kettle was chatty by nature - Apple, less so, but the length of their journey resulted in her eventually responding to Kettle’s relentless enquiries. She’d learned a great deal about the other woman - it had started with harmless questions about the ahead mission, but progressed to more personal stories. She liked listening to Apple speak, and took even greater pleasure still in hearing her laugh.  _ She’s beautiful when she laughs, _ Kettle thought as she submerged herself further beneath the water. 

Then there had been the dancing. Some of the more complex dances were utterly ridiculous and totally outside her skillset, but she thought she’d be able to manage others quite competently. She was hardly an expert by any means, but she’d had a good teacher. Apple had been very... _ instructive _ . She could feel a blush adorning her cheeks at the memory of the way the other woman had held her, and at the way she’d...reacted to it. It had just felt so  _ right, _ being in one another’s arms as they swayed to non-existent music - as if, in all the chaos of the world, they’d found the place they were meant to be. 

She shook herself. These were  _ not _ the kind of thoughts she should be thinking on the eve of an important assignment. It must be the...steam. Yes, the steam. That was it. She exited the bath to go and find the dress Apple had procured for her. She slipped it on, marvelling at the unfamiliar feel of it. She’d spent the last ten years wearing some form of habit , and before that she’d worn whatever second-hand garments her parents had been able to find for her. They’d rarely been dresses, and never one this expensive. It was a deep blue with silver adornments, and fit like a glove. The colour complimented her complexion nicely. She felt - she felt  _ pretty _ , in a way she’d never thought of herself as before. 

She decided to wait in the lounge area for Apple to finish getting ready. There were other patrons likewise mulling about - some drinking, others talking with companions. Kettle kept her guard up, remembering Apple’s warning about spies. She must appear as nothing other than a regular guest. She couldn’t help but notice the looks that men in her vicinity gave her - looks that her habit usually protected her from. It made her distinctly uncomfortable, but she would not let them taint the earlier pride she’d felt in her appearance.

She was not waiting long. Apple descended the stairs in a dress of emerald green, her beautiful red hair - free from its habit - cascading down her back. Kettle’s breath left her body entirely. “I...you…” She said, momentarily stupefied. There was certainly no need to fake any kind of reaction here. She swallowed. “You look...beautiful.”

Apple smiled, her eyes roving across Kettle’s body. She appeared equally transfixed. Kettle flushed. “Thank you,” she said, finally. “As do you.”

They stayed staring at one another for a moment longer, before Apple broke the tension. “We should go,” she said, taking Kettle’s arm. “By all accounts, it’s going to be quite the party.”

* * *

Kettle held on to Apple’s hand as they mingled amongst the guests. It was a loud, garish affair and there seemed to be an endless supply of Sis Lords and other members of the lesser nobility to talk to. Their own cover story - devised by Ivy and Apple - was that they were wealthy merchants whose main fortune laid in wine. It was always better, she’d been taught in Shade Class, for lies to contain at least a kernel of truth - Sweet Mercy also manufactured wine, so both Sisters had at least a passing familiarity with the business in case they were asked. And they  _ had _ been asked, make no mistake about that. Sis lords cared a great deal about pedigree, so they’d been very curious about where this bright young couple had come from. Apple spun magnificent lies - she seemed to know exactly what each Lord wanted to hear and pandered directly to that urge, as well as nudging the conversation in the direction she needed it to go. Kettle was in awe - she’d known the other nun was good, but hadn’t realised until this evening exactly how exceptional Apple was. 

“Tell me - how did the two of you meet? Such a lovely couple - it must have been quite the story.” They were in conversation with yet another Sis lord - an elderly man, with kindly eyes. Kettle wanted to take the lead on this one - as admirably as Apple had been performing, Kettle never liked being outdone. She took a second to contemplate their mark - unlike a lot of the other assembled Lords, he was not surrounded by a large group of cronies. He was alone, and had been for a large portion of the night. There was no husband or wife by his side, either. Kettle hoped she wasn’t wrong about this, but she pegged him as a widower - a lonely man who wanted a nice story to carry with him. 

She could oblige. She smiled, and turned to give Apple a fond look. “We met at school. There was an instant connection.” Surprise registered in Apple’s eyes at her initiative, but it was gone in a flash. 

“Three years and counting now,” said Apple, as she leaned in and brushed her lips across Kettle’s cheek. She could feel her face flush at the contact.

“And yet she still manages to make me blush," she said, to cover her reaction. If she was lucky, it may have added to their performance. The old man smiled indulgently. “Charming, quite charming. Where was it that you went to school, might I ask? It wasn’t Sweet Mercy, or another of the Ancestor’s Churches, was it? I have a young granddaughter, you see, and I’m wondering where to send her.”

Fear boiled in her gut - it could have been an innocent enquiry, but the coincidence seemed too great. She managed to keep her features schooled, but only barely. Apple, meanwhile, laughed. “That crumbling old ruin? Ancestor, no. Rumour has it they teach their girls about swords and poisons and all manner of deeply inappropriate things. No, my father thought it very unladylike. We went to a secular school - Greywatch Academy, do you know it?”

He nodded. “Of course! I believe I know some of the people on the board of trustees - I should have thought of it sooner. A fine place.” His smile softened. “May I say, the two of you look very happy. I lost my own wife earlier this year, I’m still getting used to attending these damned things without her. Meeting nice young people like yourselves helps ease the pain, somewhat. Reminds me there’s still good in the world.”

Relief washed over Kettle - he appeared sincere enough. Hopefully, the reference to Sweet Mercy had been a coincidence. It was a well-known institution, after all. They were always taught in Shade Class not to panic at the first sign of exposure - coincidence was more common than people realised, and many an operation was ruined by Sisters being overly anxious and crumbling whenever pressure was placed on cover stories. “Thank you, Sir. It’s been a pleasure talking to you, but if you don’t mind - I’d like an opportunity to dance with my wife.”

He chuckled. “Of course, of course. Far be it from me to keep you from one another.”

Kettle took Apple’s hand, drawing her over to the dance floor. They could not openly discuss what had just happened - the risk of being overheard was far too great - but she could see silent approval in the other woman’s eyes. It sent a thrill through Kettle - she was not just a pretty accessory on Apple’s arm, but an active member of the mission. She could contribute. 

All of that flew out of her head when the music started playing, however. It was one of the songs they’d practiced - a light, airy number that didn’t require too many complicated steps. It didn’t take them long to fall into the rhythm they’d found easily on the road. As she twirled and lept in Apple’s arms, it was all too easy to forget the dozens of eyes upon them. At that moment, there was only Apple, and their smiles were only for each other. She’d be content to stay like this forever. 

It couldn’t last, of course. Once the music ended, so too did the strange spell it cast. They were forcibly flung back into reality, and the details of the ballroom - as well as their reasons for being there - returned to clear focus. Their lapse seemed to help their cause, however - fewer guests were casting them curious glaces, and most now seemed assured that they were, in fact, a real couple, here at the party for valid reasons. 

All they had to do now was maintain the facade and wait for Lord Namsis to excuse himself for the night. Then, they would strike.

* * *

The opportunity they had been waiting for came only a few hours later. They’d spent the intervening time maintaining their pretense, though increasingly ramping up the physical affection they were showing one another so that, when the time came, the other guests would believe they’d simply snuck away for some time alone. Kettle once again struggled to maintain her composure while this was going on - she’d had to resort to using the clarity trance at certain points. She could’ve  _ sworn _ she’d seen Apple do the same thing, come to think of it. Neither could afford to forget themselves at this crucial juncture, however - despite the temptation. 

Shortly after midnight, Apple took a final swig of her drink. To anyone looking, she would appear distinctly drunk. She was not, of course - they’d both been lacing their cups with a pill that would neutralise the effect of the alcohol. She wrapped her arms around Kettle’s shoulders, bringing herself in close. “It’s time,” she whispered, before pressing a kiss just below her earlobe. 

Excitement thrummed through Kettle - both from the kiss and the thought of what was to come. This was it. She allowed Apple to take her by the hand and lead her from the main ballroom - both of them made sure to giggle and stick close to one another for the benefit of any onlookers. People made a note of their exit - but, crucially, none seemed suspicious. Scandalised, some of them, but not suspicious.

They made their way through the estate’s expansive corridors towards Lord Namsis’s chambers. They were careful to maintain their performance throughout, but encountered very few people. The more quiet guests had already left, whereas those who liked a party were still down in the ballroom. 

In typical fashion, it was not until they were significantly out of bounds that they heard any sign of anyone. 

“Is someone there?” The voice was male and sounded young. He spoke with enough deference to suggest he was likely a servant. Panic seized Kettle, then. There were few places in this very out of bounds corridor to hide, and discretion was a must. They couldn’t afford to litter the estate with corpses either, so killing him was a poor option. They could try to shadow-weave, she supposed - but given that Namsis was expecting something to happen tonight, his servants had likely received training in spotting it. 

No, there was only one option. 

Kettle turned to Apple and kissed her. The other woman let out a moan of surprise - clearly, she’d been about to silence the poor servant - but quickly kissed her back. They’d kissed before, over the course of this long night - but those had been brief pecks. Nothing like this. It was the kind of kiss that was sung about in songs - the kind of kiss that would cause a book to be removed from the Convent library for obscenity. Kettle could feel the burn of her soulmark across her clavicle - but she ignored it. They were too wrapped up in one another. 

“Um…” said the servant, clearly confused. “I’ll just....go. You’re not really meant to be here, but...uh… I guess you need some time alone?”

They ignored him. It was several long moments before they pulled away from one another. Kettle smiled at Apple hesitantly. “That was -”

Apple silenced her with another kiss, short and sweet. “I know,” she said, smoothing back a strand of Kettle’s hair that had fallen out of place. “I know. But we need to keep moving - he’s gone, but there might be more around.”

She was right - they had to keep moving. It was an effort to force her mind back into logical footing - her head still felt like it was ascending into the heavens - but she managed it, if only barely. They were close now - if her geography was correct, Namsis’s chamber should be down the next corridor. They advanced, moving quickly yet quietly.

It was a good thing that both of them had trained so extensively in moving without making a sound, because stationed outside the grand oak doors to his apartments were two burly guards. Standing at what must have been at least eight feet tall, both men clearly had more than a touch of the gerant. Likely, they’d trained in the Caltess or some other such institution. Kettle had her hunska speed and she knew Apple was gifted with considerable marjal talents, but neither would stand much of a chance in an all-out brawl. Besides - the noise such an encounter would generate would warn Lord Namsis. No, if they were going to dispatch these two, they would need to do it silently. 

She reached for the knife she had concealed in her dress, and noticed Apple doing the same thing. It felt good to be this in sync with another person, especially with such comparatively little time to prepare. They worked well together. Both raised their daggers at the same time - Kettle aimed at the guard on the left, while Apple took the one on the right. The other nun held up three fingers and began a silent countdown - when she lowered the last finger, both women let their weapons fly. 

The daggers struck home, embedding themselves in the eyes of their victims. They’d both hit perfect shots - the men, for all their bulk, had time to register only a dim surprise before they began falling. Apple and Kettle moved swiftly to catch them before they hit the ground - neither were able to bear their weight, but they could cushion the fall somewhat to prevent them from making a noise. 

Kettle tried to avoid looking into the face of the man she killed, but wasn’t totally able to. While she’d spent 10 years learning the skills of the Red and Grey in Sweet Mercy, she’d never actually ended someone’s life before. What if he had a family? A wife, a sister, a brother - someone who cared for him outside of these walls. Likely he’d just been trying to feed them with this job. She could feel her breath catching, her panic rising. 

A tentative hand found its way to her shoulder. “You did well,” said Apple in a whisper, so quiet it was barely audible. “And trust me, it gets easier. You’ve served the Ancestor well - remember that. Let us see this through to the end.”

Kettle exhaled and nodded. She gave Apple’s hand - which was still on her shoulder - a grateful squeeze, before turning to the door of Namsis’s chambers. It was sigil-locked - their picks wouldn’t work on it. Normally, this would not be a problem - the Grey Cloak was equipped with all manner of tools that would allow them to break through even a sigil-locked door with few enough problems. But they weren’t wearing their cloaks, and these Ancestor-damned dresses didn’t offer many places to hide things. 

Upon noticing Kettle’s confusion, Apple merely smirked and touched the sigil with her hands. Shadow pooled at her fingertips, different to the kind they called upon for shadow-weaving. Within a matter of seconds, the incredibly expensive lock fell away with a satisfying  _ click _ . Even under her residual panic, she couldn’t help but be impressed - she’d known Apple’s marjal abilities were considerable, but it was another thing to see them in action. It was...impressive. 

They opened the door, wrapping themselves in Shadow as they did so. Kettle had only a touch of the marjal, but she’d always been quite good at shadow-work. It didn’t come as naturally to her as it did the primes and full-bloods, but she worked hard and eventually mastered it. 

If the rest of the estate was elaborate, Lord Namsis’s private bedchamber was something else entirely. Every inch of it was garishly decorated, as if he wanted whatever guests were invited up here to grasp just how obscenely wealthy he was. Anger coiled in her stomach at the thought of how all this had been paid for - slaves toiling endlessly away while this pathetic excuse for a human threw lavish balls and fucked his mistresses. 

Namsis lay in his bed, sound asleep. A woman - presumably one of said mistresses, as his wife had chambers on the other side of the estate - lay beside him. It was unfortunate that she would wake up beside the corpse of her lover, but it couldn’t be helped. Likely, once the shock had worn off, she’d be grateful for the reprieve. 

Apple and Kettle moved as one to his side. The red-headed nun extended the knife she’d earlier used to kill the guard and wordlessly offered it to Kettle. She took it, her heart swelling with pride for what this gesture  _ meant _ \- she’d made it. Her performance on this mission had been satisfactory enough that the other woman now trusted her enough to perform this last, crucial step. She took the knife and raised it to the man’s throat, intending to make the cut that would end his life swift and easy. 

At the last possible moment, the weapon was knocked out of her hands and a powerful punch left her sprawling. Her head spun with the impact of the blow, spots dancing across her eyes. She blinked, forcing herself to come to. One did not attend ten years of Blade classes without learning how to take a punch. The woman they’d assumed to be Namsis’s mistress was the culprit - she was now up, and dueling with Apple. Namsis himself had also been roused by the noise, and was trying to make a break for the door. 

Kettle was left with a choice, and had only a moment to make it. She could help Apple - her assailant was wearing armour, and appeared well trained. Likely the Lord had paid her to masquerade as his mistress whilst actually being his bodyguard - they hadn’t been the only ones pretending tonight, then. Or, she could prevent Namsis escaping. If he left this room, he would alert the household guard and they’d stand no chance of finishing him off. The mission would be a failure. 

Kettle’s heart wanted to go to Apple. A stubborn part of her mind was still thinking about their kiss - the idea that the other woman may get hurt was too awful to consider. But Apple was a Grey Sister, next in line to become Mistress Shade. She could handle herself in a fight, and she would be the first person to tell her not to let their target get away. 

She cursed, picking up the knife she had dropped and chased after Lord Namsis. Kettle could feel her hunska-fast reflexes kicking in - a good thing too, because the man was inches away from the door when she caught up with him. She seized the back of his nightshirt, pulling him close. Kettle ended his life with one swift motion. Blood erupted from his throat, dyeing the porcelain tiles a deep red. 

His body hadn’t even hit the floor before she turned away and ran back to Apple. She need not have worried - the other woman was standing over her opponent, who was projectile vomiting over the floor. 

“White feather,” said Apple grimly. “Messy, but effective. Never leave home without it.” She swiped her knife across the other woman’s throat, bringing an end to her misery. She looked to Kettle and smiled, noticing Namsis’s body at the other side of the room. “Well done. Come, we need to get out of here - as quickly as we can.”

* * *

They left the estate promptly, exiting through a window and cutting a path over the roofs. The climb was not an easy one, dressed as they were in their finery. Novices always questioned the practical use of the Blade Path, but at this very moment Kettle was exceedingly glad she was the Convent’s current record holder - the sense of balance it had trained into her was invaluable. 

Apple, who was neither a hunska nor - as far as Kettle knew - particularly proficient at Blade Path, struggled with the climb more than she did. After noticing her stumble a few times, Kettle - with only a moment's hesitation - extended a hand to the other woman. Apple smiled gratefully up at her as she took it.

Neither of them let go, not even when it was apparent she no longer needed help. 

Their horses were where they had left them, along with their gear. They hadn’t thought returning to the inn wise, so they’d left what equipment they’d need for the journey back to the Convent securely hidden in a thicket on the outskirts of the estate. As... _ interesting _ … an experience as it had been to see one another in something that wasn’t a habit, they were both grateful to change out of their dresses and into the familiar Grey Cloaks. 

“You’re bleeding,” Apple commented, a note of concern in her voice.

“Am I?” Said Kettle, raising a hand to the spot on her head that Namsis’s guard had punched. Sure enough, it came away sticky with blood. 

“It doesn’t look too serious - we’ll ride on for now. They’re bound to raise the alarm soon. I’ll do what I can for it once we’re in the clear.”

Kettle nodded her assent, and soon they were on the road. They rode fast and hard, doing their best to keep off the main streets and stick to the smaller lanes. It was hard on the poor horses, but it kept them from being seen by too many prying eyes. 

After a few hours, they came across a cave alongside which a stream ran. Apple dismounted her horse and let it drink from the water, turning to Kettle. “Come on,” she said, “Let’s get that head looked at.”

They made themselves comfortable in the cave. Apple took a spare bit of cloth from their bags and wet it with water from the stream. Gently, she pressed it to the wound on Kettle’s head, washing away the blood that had congealed there. Her touch was tender, and Kettle allowed herself to revel in it. 

“You did well today,” said Apple, her voice as soft as her touch. “Very well. I’ll make sure Ivy knows. You couldn’t’ve asked for something more challenging on your first mission, but you were… exceptional.”

Pride flooded Kettle’s system, but there was something else there too - something that had been brewing between them the entire assignment and now was threatening to spill over. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice light, “I wouldn’t say being married to you was a hardship. It’s something I could get used to, in fact.”

Apple laughed, her face flushing as red as her hair. “And I, you. Alas, we’re both married to the Ancestor.”

Kettle matched the other woman’s laughter, but her mind was racing. Apple was right, of course - they  _ were _ both nuns, thus technically sworn to chastity. But as much as the likes of Wheel proselytized, that never really stopped anyone. There were always rumours of one nun taking another to bed - if you paid attention to novice gossip, Sister Tallow had had a number of lovers over the past few years. As long as they weren’t too indiscreet, the Abbess generally turned a blind eye. 

So why couldn’t she and Apple do the same thing? The interest was there, she was sure of it. Kettle thought back to their kiss - that  _ couldn’t _ have been all pretense on Apple’s part. The other woman was a master of deception, but she wasn’t  _ that _ good. No one was. Damn it all, she was taking her shot. 

“That’s true,” she said, trying to play it cool. “But, you know, we could -” 

Something out of the corner of her eye caught Kettle’s attention and held it. Apple was still tending to the wound on her head, but the band she normally wore - presumably to hide her soulmark, as was common - had slipped down. Kettle could see the words concealed beneath it in an elegant cursive. 

_ Mai Tanner.  _

Kettle’s world stopped turning. Every other thought evacuated itself from her brain as if there’d been some kind of explosion. Apple had her name on her wrist. Apple had known all this time that she was her soulmate. She remembered then the way the other woman stilled when she read her name off the rota the first time they met, the way they’d stared at one another. Apple had recognised her name from her own body. Why hadn’t she said anything? Why, after all the times they’d been alone together, had Apple not seen fit to mention it?

The other woman had noticed the target of Kettle’s attention. She wrenched her wrist away, a horrified expression crossing her face. Quickly, she moved the band back in place, covering the offending spot. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither quite knowing what to say. 

Finally, Kettle broke. “Why didn’t you tell me?” There were many emotions evident in her voice - anger and confusion foremost among them - but even that paled in comparison to the maelstrom of feelings in her heart.

Apple was almost equally overwrought. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing the emotions down. “What was I supposed to say? You were my student. It was forbidden.”

Kettle scoffed. “I haven’t been your student for almost a year. We’d seen each other plenty of times at the Convent - why not then?”

“You were with Safira. You seemed  _ happy _ . I didn’t want to come between that.”

“She stabbed me,” Kettle shouted, frustration burning through her. “That put a pretty swift end to the relationship.”

“Yes, but - I saw the way the two of you looked at each other. Those kinds of feelings don’t just go away, no matter what happened between you.”

Kettle took a deep breath, and tried to re-centre herself. Apple seemed earnest, and some of the reasons she had for keeping quiet were fair ones. If she was an outsider, she might even agree with the other woman’s thinking. It was different being caught in the middle of it, though. “She was jealous, you know. Of the way I looked at you, and the way you looked at me. We had other problems - a lot of them, if I’m being honest - but jealousy was at the heart of it.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Apple, genuine surprise in her voice. “I - normally I would have picked up on it, but I - I was doing my best to avoid you. I thought the two of you really were happy, until the… incident. I have a somewhat…  _ complicated _ relationship with soulmates, but I still couldn’t bare knowing that you were mine and you were with someone else.”

“I deserved to have that choice,” Kettle said, softly. “I deserved to have that choice, so that I could  _ know _ . So that we could have the conversation that we’re having now.” “I know. I know that, and I’m sorry. Is there - is there anything I can do? To make it up to you?”

“Tell me your name. The one you were born with.” Kettle needed to know - after a lifetime of wondering about the woman whose name was on her clavicle, she  _ needed _ to know. 

“It’s Grace,” said Apple, “Grace Murphy.”

Kettle exhaled, wordlessly pulling down her robe enough to reveal her mark. It was an exact match to the name Apple had just told her. 

The other woman stared at it, a longing in her eyes that was familiar to Kettle. “Can I….?” She asked, motioning to the mark. 

Kettle nodded, and Apple moved in closer. She brushed over it with a careful finger, and Kettle shuddered. “I’d always convinced myself that you didn’t have my name. I don’t know why - I’m aware that soulmates are most often matched pairs. I suppose I was trying to justify my own stupid decisions to myself.”

Kettle snorted. “You think? Although I suppose it’s not that unusual. Safira had my name. Obviously, I didn’t have hers.”

“Where shall we go from here, then?” Asked Apple, a note of  _ something _ in her voice - something hopeful, maybe. 

Feeling some of her earlier bravery return to her, Kettle decided to be bold. There was a lot they still needed to talk about, but they’d waited long enough. “Now, I kiss you again. I’ve wanted to ever since we stopped outside of Namsis’s chambers. That is, if you want to as well.”

Apple arched an eyebrow and smirked. “Just since then? I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you wearing that  _ gorgeous _ dress.” She sidled closer. 

“Well, if we’re being honest about it, I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you, so…”

“Kettle? Do shut up and kiss me.”

* * *

Their ride back to Sweet Mercy was far more enjoyable than their journey from it. Instead of an awkward silence punctuated by occasional bouts of conversation between people who hardly knew one another, they seldom stopped talking. Apple, free from the burden of the secret she’d been carrying for years, was more open than Kettle had ever seen her. They spoke of everything - their likes and dislikes, their respective time as novices, their friends and lovers of days past. They’d even tentatively began to talk about their early childhoods - a topic Kettle was never eager to discuss. Safira had been the last - and only - person she’d told about her mother’s true fate, until now. Apple was equally reticent to speak of her background - Kettle found she understood the other woman’s position on soulmates far better once she told her of how her father had treated her mother. They both felt closer to one another, having shared these intimate truths. 

Their nights were also far more enjoyable. Kettle had missed having a lover. Safira was her last, and she couldn’t help but draw comparisons between the two. Safira had thought of herself as a confident person and tried to reflect that confidence in the bedroom, but her insecurities and jealousy had always risen to the surface. Apple, meanwhile - her confidence was not feigned. She knew what to do, and she did it well. Kettle had never felt so satiated - nor had she ever taken such great pleasure in satiating someone else. 

They’d really need to work on their noise control, though, if they were going to carry on like this when they got back to Sweet Mercy. Out here in the wilds, they could be as loud as they liked. In a Convent full of nuns? Not so much.

Regardless, it was something she was very much looking forward to working on. As the Convent came into view over the horizon, Kettle took Apple’s hand. 

“You ready?” She asked, thinking of the day they’d have ahead of them. Reports to be made, masses to attend. The work of a Grey Sister never really stopped.

Apple smiled at her. “As long as you’re by my side.”

Kettle matched her lover’s grin. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> there you go :) i kind of intend to write a prequel story to book of the ancestor which will use some aspects from this fic - the undercover mission, the background with Safira etc - which is why i didn't always go into as much detail as i could have. hope you all enjoyed! please leave a comment to let me know how you found it :)


End file.
